Benny Encounters
by MegiieSue
Summary: The Courier's driving persona of revenge appears a few times during the actual game play. From the view of the victim itself, here's the story of each unfortunate encounter.
1. Chapter 1

An odd grainy feeling of dirt surrounded the breathing pipes of the somewhat lowly courier. A throbbing sensation began upon consciousness. The first reaction was to cough, cough out the substance that hindered any immediate breathing. It was unpleasant and bitter, sour enough to bring the captured messenger to wake from the radioactive desert floor. Lifting body parts, particularly the hands, became a difficult task given that the hands of the platinum chip bearer were tied in thick yellow gloves.

The memory of how this situation of bondage came to be was a blur. All that was remembered was lugging a package through the dust storms. Honestly the laborer couldn't recall actually knowing the contents of the small brown box, having only been told that losing it would result in ensured death. Big deal, it was often the speech the couriers received before any delivery. None ever took it seriously, except maybe a few hard asses. The rest of them knew that it was usually a crock devised to scare them into getting the job done with minimal hassle.

But now something finally had happened against the odds, or so this messenger thought. Some invisible bat, or other melee weapon, seemed to come out of nowhere to knock his target unconscious. That mission was accomplished. And now the pathetic body of Benny's goal was laid next to a shallow grave.

Now all that was heard at the late hour was voices. Not quite whispers, but harsh voices cursing every so often about things that could be assumed. When the bearer was brought to make out fuzzy images, eyes were lifted to a couple men only feet away. One was wearing a black and white hounds tooth, no wait, checkered suit coat. It was hard to make out with the dizzy perception of the world. He was not facing the suspect, and neither were the other men. Maybe this was a chance.

Quickly the figure struggled to break free, grunting slightly as the rope refused to break. The frustration was overwhelming. And that pathetic stare from the checkered man was even more than the courier could bare. Him and the rest of his men continued to discuss in more hushed than normal tones. The headaches became worse, drawing the victim to moan a plead,

"What... what happened. Who are you people?"

The man that stood out from the rest turned to face the pathetic figure. He didn't laugh like a mad man, or scold the messenger. This was surprising. Typically any man or person who was sick enough to put someone near death like this without any prior interaction must have been a sick demented twit. But his stare was now malicious, or as far as any normal person could tell. The courier bobbed it's head in defeat, leaning over tied hands,

"Tell me." Like that something seemed to snap, drawing the figure to whip it's head up with a look of anger, "Now!" With renewed strength and vigor, the words were spouted like the venom of a rattlesnake.

His attention was soon caught as he drew enough pity to respond. He did not grin, only weakly smiling to the fury that grew in the eyes he looked into,

"Calm down, kid, don't hurt yourself."

"Who are you?" The words came slow and weak, as did the others before,

"Doesn't matter. Not anymore at least." Why wasn't he mocking yet? In every story of any raider, it was common sense to be mocked in near death. It was a question how this time was different. What made this victim worthy of a say, villain with honor. The courier struggled with the rope again, which still refused to break,

"Why haven't you struck me yet? You some kind of pussy?" A sick and haste laugh escaped the man's bitter lips,

"I'm getting to it, slick." He removed a silver pistol from his coat to wave it in the face of the dazed messenger, "Some sick masochist or something? Do you want me to hurt you?"

When the bearer's vision cleared, the image of intricately detailed barrel was revealed. Tiny swirrels decorated the in between regions, and the image of something shining with gold rays was made out under Benny's hand. In actuality, it was a beautiful weapon. But right now the interest was not in weapons; the main priority was getting out alive,

"I want you to take your sorry ass back to where you came from and let me deliver my goddamn package."

"That ain't gonna fly, I'm afraid. You see, what you have here is something very important. Something even your sweet little ass would have a hard time understanding."

"You think I care? It isn't my business what it is, but I need the caps, so hand it over!"

"Kitten's got claws."

He joked, placing the pistol back into his coat pocket. With the slight motion of the hand, one of his goons appeared from behind him. The light of a fire revealed him as a monster of a man. The courier's eyes widened, the figure scurrying away in fear. The man approached with a bat to intimidate the messenger that kicked away in fear as it struggled to stand. A quick whip knocked the peculiar and feisty deliverer unconscious once more. But this time, recovery was quicker, as a moan escaped from muffled lips. The repeat of the wringing of the hands commenced, still to no avail,

"You got what you were after, so pay up!" A deep voice commanded. The courier was too weak to lift an eye at this time,

"You're crying in the rain, pally." Every angle of twisting and turning was futile, still the rope would not break,

"Guess who's waking up over here?" Slowly, the messenger lifted it's head,

"Time to cash out." The menacing hit men were tiring to the look. Normally one might widen their eyes at such colorful figures, but this bearer had seen it's share of characters. Threatening wackos were all part of life in the wastes,

"Will you get it over with?" The darker one spoke. To this the man in the checkered suit raised a finger, his eyes not leaving the face of the weak person,

"Maybe Khans kill people without looking 'em in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?" Again he reached inside his coat, this time bring out a silver poker chip. But it wasn't plastic like most others, this one shinned in the moon light. It was made of metal, or... platinum maybe, "You've made your last delivery, kid. Sorry you got twisted up in this scene." Quickly he retracted the chip to replace it with his silver pistol. From the ground, the kid began to shake. Veins began to throb with it's beating heart, "From where you're kneeling must seem like an 18 karat run of bad luck."

At that moment the struggling ceased as the pistol pointed point blank to the messenger's forehead. Breathing came hard in anticipation. Fear, was probably a more fit word,

"Truth is, the game was rigged from the start."


	2. Chapter 2

There was something about the men that populated The Tops. Some odd fixation on each of their brows that was directed at each visitor that entered the casino reeked of distaste. These kind of men weren't accustomed to the passive nature workers in the normal world must possess to keep a business in prosperity. But that wasn't what distracted the Courier upon first glance. Each of them, dressed up in fancy suits, resembled no person she would have seen out in the wastes. Not ever,  
>"Hey, hey, baby doll, welcome to the Tops Hotel and Casino! I'm going to have to ask you to hand over any weapons you might be carrying."<br>"How come?" The lady didn't mean to question the rules of the place, but something seemed to be off about these men, and her weapons provided a sense of comfort in times where she felt threatened by his like. Besides, if she were to find the target she was after in the first place, a 9mm pistol or two might come in handy,  
>"Regulations, sweetheart, now if you'd please."<p>

The look upon the man's face was priceless when all of her weapons laid out on the counter of the greeting table. It sure didn't attract any pleasing stairs from any of the guests to see what seemed to be the whole armory of the NCR laid out for their protection,  
>"Planning on taking on a whole goddamn gang of fiends, Angel? Don't you worry, they'll be safe as kittens till you're ready to leave." He paused, "Oh and a friendly word of advice: if you happen to "stumble across" any weapons during your stay here, well... just don't wear them openly. You dig?"<br>"Uhm, alright."  
>"Have a good time, baby." The courier's stare lingered for a moment before she parted from the entrance.<p>

If this was where her attempted murderer was hidden away, it seemed like a task that would take ages to accomplish finding him. An uncountable amount of tables crammed across the lowered floor within inches of each other. Bosses greed if she ever saw it, more tables more money. That's just the way things rolled in New Vegas.

The courier's eyes scanned across the casino room for the image of the man she recalled from her near death experience. The recollection was hazy and dream like, but one thing that was certain was that the suit coat he wore was a blurry black and white checkered pattern. His face, unrecognizable, but with a fancy expensive suit like that it was doubtful that he'd have any other clothes to change into. All these men were dressed up nicely, however, which didn't help the search at all.

She must have looked like a suspicious fraud or an idiot circling the whole gambling hell hole like a lost puppy looking for it's master. It was a surprise someone didn't tell her to buy some chips or leave; it must have been in their loose code of conduct to be respectful as possible when their bosses aren't off shooting innocent middle men.

The search came to an abrupt end when a familiar checkered coat parted it's way from a group of gray backed security brutes, each with a crude rifle of their own. It wouldn't have been wise to confront him with a threatening entrance with those babies on lock, so she trailed him to the elevator hallway. That was when she made her clumsy approach, for he turned before she could get a hold of the sucker. The look on his face was of priceless shock,  
>"What in the goddamn...?" A few steps forward with a deathly glare was all it took to make him squeal, "Let's keep this in the groove, hey? Smooth moves, like smooth little babies..."<br>"Seems you need to work on your marksmanship, fella. It looks like I'm the last baby you're ever going to see." She grabbed a hold of his black tie, yanking him forward to get a better swing at his head. But his wide hand caught her fist conveniently or by skill, he held her back. Who knew the business type could hold their own against a wasteland bred lady,  
>"Hold your horses, Dolly, you don't want that. See, you lay one hand on me and you'll have this place hopping like rabbits."<br>"You think I didn't come prepared?"  
>"No pea shooter you snuck through security is going to do you much luck. Besides, you didn't come for vengeance, you came to get clued in."<p>

The messenger retracted her fist, reluctantly releasing the grip she held on his now crumpled tie. As if it made much of a difference, he pretended to brush off his jacket, mouthing praise to her cooperation. But she did not withdraw from her stance,  
>"Clued in on what?" Benny mockingly smirked,<br>"Don't play coy. You wouldn't have followed the Ben Man half way across the Mojave unless you had questions that needed answering."  
>"I tracked you because you have a package of mine, Genius. I'm as good as fired without it, so there's no point in going back now!" Inside the courier's shirt was a lightweight pistol. Not nearly as efficient as some of the other weapons she possessed, but one quick pop to the head was all she needed. She reached for it, nearly pulling it out and pointing it below his chin before the sound of a deeper third party's voice caused her to freeze with her hand half way up her blouse,<br>"Hey, Benny, this girl causing you trouble?" She released the handle, pulling her hand back to her side. The look she gave must have been pretty horrified, but who could blame her, the man must have been a whopping seven foot. He towered over the two of them like the way the Jolly Green Giant might,  
>"Uh, no, Hands."<br>"Well, who is she?"  
>"She's my..." He eyed the girl from head to toe, sneaking his arm around her waste to pull her in, "Escort." No fancy word for prostitute was acceptable in the slightest for the bearer, quickly rebuffing him as she struggled out of his grasp,<br>"I'm not a-" He leaned in to nearer his lips to her ear. The breaths of his whisper caused chills to be sent down her spine. Her whole body shivered,  
>"We'll cash out, go someplace private-like, and I'll give you your answers. Just cool it."<p>

While her fists balled in reluctance, she stopped her fidgeting, clamping her mouth shut to prevent any protests on her part. At any moment the mouth of the 'escort' was ready to burst with anger, a quick lunge would be enough to catch him off guard. But if she could just get him alone, in a suite perhaps, that plan would work out much better. For now the beating glare of the black browed man would keep her glued to the chest of the very man she despised,  
>"She's a bit of a fream for this scene, don't you think?"<br>"I'd rather have dibs on a cat than a cube, now go bug somebody else."

Benny was a man of authority. He practically owned the chairmen after Bingo went bye bye. As well as a man of great business skill, he could order around even the larger members of the Chairmen. Hands, whom was more than double this man's size, almost cowered in his presence like a Lenny to a George. It took not a second word from Benny's mouth for the man to back off and leave to butt in to some other man's business. When the colossus finally booked it, she clawed the man's checkered arm from her hip,  
>"You make me sick."<br>"Call me what you like, I just saved your ass. How about let's call it even Steven and part ways?"  
>"Funny joke, let's go."<br>Where Benny took her was far from sweeping her away to a cloud. The place the two arrived at was his suite on the thirteenth floor, and it was far from what a person might expect from a prominent leader of a family in New Vegas's suite to look like. Most of the caps must had gone to the casino itself rather than the homes of the members themselves. Wood paneling showed through the pealing wallpaper clear as day and the furniture smelled of groggy cigarette smoke. The whole room smelled of smoke to be more accurate. The atmosphere was far from pleasant, but neither were her intentions.

His back was turned as he unlocked and opened the double door to the room, and as far as the Courier could tell, this would be a perfect chance to strike. How oblivious he was as he strolled into the decaying room, as naïve as a baby kitten he might say. With no ready weapon at hand, the woman balled her ready fist, and landed a full on punch to the back of the man's neck.

Benny stumbled forward into the room, yelling slightly at the sudden whiplash. The messenger, realizing the short time frame to act, quickly landed a second punch to his cheek before he could finish turning around. But she was quickly caught off guard as well when the collapsed man tripped her from under her feet. She fell, soon feeling the full on sick of his polished black shoe in her stomach. Too stubborn to plea, a moan escaped her lips in stead.

He was to his feet before she had forced any hard spoken words through her coughing, pointing his well decorated pistol to her cranium. It was a moment of unpleasant deja vu,  
>"You're out of line, sister." He panted, " If you insist on being a crooked bitch, this time I won't miss." The barrel of the gun seemed especially threatening from the floor off a broken down suite. If she didn't play her cards right soon, she might loose all her chips before the game had even started,<br>"Wait!"  
>"You had your chance, baby doll, and you lost it."<br>"I just want answers, Benny." She staggered to her feet, but his pistol never left it's target, "All I need is my chip. To make a delivery. After all, I'm only a Courier." He lessened his grip on the handle, she could tell by the motion of his fingers in the corner of her eye. He was giving in, into the fact that the way she approached him. Her swaying hips proved enough of a distraction for her to hit the gun to the ground and lunge for it herself. From the ground she aimed towards him. It felt especially invigorating to have the tables turned for once, "My, my, how fitting this is."  
>"Cool your jets, baby doll."<br>"What a fitting way to die, by the bullet of your own weapon. It couldn't have happened any better even if I had planned it." The words she spoke were sour with a sick sense of justice. Struggling to stand, the former bearer of the Platinum Chip was careful to to let her guard down.  
>"I'm dead serious, how do you expect me to sing without a head?"<br>"I don't. I expect you to call off any guards you have waiting to ambush me the second I leave this room, and explain to me what the significance in in this goddamn poker chip."  
>"Can tell you right now, it ain't no poker chip, sweetheart." She lowered the gun slightly, her eyebrow cocking at the confession,<br>"Then spill."  
>"With all due respect, Miss, take that goddamn gun out of my face and I might be able to let you in on it." With a roll of the eye, the gun was tossed behind the bar on the other side of the room. All cards were shown, no hidden tricks anymore. It was all about to come out.<p>

"That's more like it." He cleared his throat as if to begin a drawn out tall tale, which it probably was with the man's credibility, "You see that chip you were hired to deliver isn't any old chip, my dear, it's some sort of computerized data storage device. On it there's the key to ruling New Vegas. Mr. House ordered it to be delivered to him before the war some two hundred year ago, but when everything went under it was thought to be destroyed. When word caught hold that it was still intact, he had it packaged and sent to him on the double."  
>"And you tried to intercept the package?" He leaned against the back of the couch for support. The dizzy sensation clearly hadn't left him, and the same could be said for her. She crossed her arms, walking closer to him,<br>"Ring a ding, baby. You see, Mr. House is a cool guy and all, but he has some odd sense of entitlement because he hid the city under his skirt for a couple hundred years. His ways are whack, and I say New Vegas leads itself independently under the guidance of the Chairman. With that chip and some help of his little army of robots, this city's gonna have a new swing."  
>"What makes you think you're more capable than Mr. House?"<br>"He's got no, class. And as I said before, it's time for some new leadership. Something fresh."  
>"Sounds like a bunch of Bullshit to me." She spat<br>"There's limited options here, doll. Would you prefer some slavers or government crooks?" Her eyes shifted uncomfortably. While the truth was painful, the justice in this situation was all wrong. The chip rightfully belonged to the man she had to deliver it to. And she'd do whatever it took to get the caps. There was no way Benny would be convinced out of his mindset,  
>"I guess that makes sense." She admitted approaching the man to a closer degree. A smirk rounded her lips, " So how are you involved with Mr. House anyways?"<br>"The man took us out of the wastes and "relocated" us onto the strip. He offered us a pad in style in exchange for our gecko hides and nomadic ways."

"That sounded oddly poetic. What were you before New Vegas?"

"A nobody. We were the Boot Riders, sounds corny but that's how we got around. Then House's Securitrons rolled in one day with boxes of suits and hats, said we were now the Chairmen. It was a step up for all of us, but that's when the nostalgia began to set in. I told them if the shoe fits, wear it. We weren't going back." His expression began to falter in the sense of disgruntled frustration with the Courier. He was cooperating, and on his own accord for now. It only seemed fit for the woman to become interested in his story telling if she were to do a 180 and get on his good side,

"So naturally you repay him by overthrowing his leadership."

"Listen, Baby, House is a nice guy, but a corrupt old geezer if you ever saw one." She bit her bottom lip, surveying the slouching checkered man. It repulsed her, what she was about to do, but it might be her only chance. Suppressing any inner most desire to gag, she neared him without a threatening presence, standing only a foot away,

"And how do you expect to carry out this wonderful dream of yours? Just mosey on into Caesar's tent, chip at hand, and carry on like everything's daisies?"

"I have my ways, my connections. One man's sacrifice ain't much when you're dealing with a plan as unreal as this." What was unreal was his sudden modesty. Her lips pursed in confusion, for it seemed that maybe this rat of a man had some moral undertone to his actions. But not much,

"That's a pretty bold statement."  
>"Tell me more, babe." She wrapped her arms around his neck. Right now he was slightly shorter than her, sitting on the back of the rustic couch. But it was alright on his side, for his eyes were at the perfect level with her chest. Her waist nestled just perfectly between his legs, his strong hands playfully caressing her hips,<p>

"Maybe my head's still a bit scrambled from that bullet, but I'm finding this space between us pretty nerving." Benny's eyes drifted down her body, from her chin to her waist that he held so gently. He jerked her, grabbing tightly onto her hip bones, his eyes lifted back up to hers, "Maybe we can fix that?"

"What's the catch, baby-doll?"

"The Chip, perhaps?" He let out a sarcastic laugh, shoving her away by the hip. As she stumbled to reposition herself, he made his way to the door to show her out,

"If you're expecting me to change my mind, save yourself the time and leave." She followed to his side, placing her slender hands gently enough on his shoulders to position him closer to her body,

"Or it could be for the hell of it." His disposition showed that of renewed disgust and agitation at her pass. Which was odd, considering the man wasn't one for hard to get girls. He had his fair share of lowly women in bed,

"Are you making a pass at me, sister? Cause I'm way out of your league." She flashed a smirk up at him, her hands sneaking into his checkered coat as she rubbed his chest,

"I am a Courier, after all. Don't you want me to handle your 'package'?"

It practically sent shivers up her spine to know of what could and probably _would _happen that night if Benny were to use her to her full potential. The way he cocked an amused eyebrow at her, indescribable. Loathing his touch was all she could recall as he pulled her in, although the tender touch of his lips to her neck was the only pleasurable part of their conference. Hate would not be too strong of a word to describe her emotions towards her attempted killer.

Yet, his body was so warm, and his hands... assuring in some unexplainable way. He began to play with her hair as he kissed up her neck. It was too much passion for a fling with faulty compensation.

He led her out of the parlor and into the even more distasteful bedroom. It took the best of the messenger's ability to avoid staring at the bed she was soon to lay in,

"Let's see what you've been hiding under that checkered suit." His evil smirk was enough to describe his intentions,

"More than you ever dreamed, baby."

* * *

><p>"You're platinum, pussycat. You know how to swing!"<p>

Nice Charlies, too! Give 'em a shake for the Ben-man, would you? Hello!"

"That was a nice bit of hey-hey, girlie. Hold me, would you? I swear you wore me out..."

* * *

><p>In his arms, she laid awake. With half open eyes the Courier traced the wooden door panel up the wall and back down for an uncountable number of times. All the while the man's breathe beating down on her hair. For now her head rested on his bare chest, awaiting for him to fall into a deeper slumber.<p>

Soon enough he began to snore lightly, providing an assonance to cure the space of it's peaceful silence. A shame, it was refreshing to have a break from the man's constant jabber throughout the whole intercourse. She rarely spoke, or made a noise for that matter. Only the occasional suppressed moan or gasp that could not be contained. Certainly not a helpful stroke to Benny's ego.

The Courier gently wiggled out from behind the man's strong arm. Her eyes never left his face as she inspected for any sign of his awaking. The fact that no signs showed for the duration of her noisy rise from the squeaking mattress made her doubt for his slumber to be broken any time soon. The man at the door had confiscated all of her weapons at the door, but a knife surely had to be in the kitchen. When she searched the cabinets, a rather large butchers knife laid inside clear as day.

It was a moment of heart pounding anger, of power and fury. For in her hands she held the fate of the man she straddled, still bare of clothing. With straight arms she held the knife to his neck, ready to slice at a moments notice. But that moment never came. For minutes she held that blade to his rugged neck. His skin was rough, she remembered, as he hadn't shaved in days. If he were to even move on his own free will he could bring himself to unwillingly slice his neck. Part of her wished that would happen, maybe then his blood would keep it's hands off her conscience.

The moment of truth came when his eyes opened. First blinking, then making out the shocking image of the Courier, on top of him, with a blade to his neck. His eyes widened, and before she had a chance to react he shoved her off the bed. The knife flew from her hand across the carpeted floor, he stepped on her wrist when she reached to grab it. Now she was at his mercy; which seemed to be happening a lot lately. He always seemed to have the better hand dealt to him when it came to life or death situations.

His beating eyes could be felt on the back of her neck despite the darkness, and the crushing sensation on her wrist was enough of a warning that he was still there. She cried out in pain, and he replied with a slap to her face. Many followed, to which he screamed in her face,

"You're a scrapper, kid. A real pain in the neck!" When he aimed to hit her again, she deflected him, weakly forcing herself to sit up and glare at him. He paused only for a moment, staring straight back. Then, he punched her, hitting her with enough force for her to pass out.

In that time that the Courier laid asleep on the floor, Benny hastily dressed. The Courier could hear his whispers to himself in but a hazy combination of noises. He was speaking to someone, but she was too far gone to investigate. His footsteps grew louder as he neared, stopping just short of the door to the parlor. Had he stopped? She forced herself to wake, lifting her forehead from the ground to see him staring back at her. Limply and pathetic like, she reached up to him, grabbing at the air. Then everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

Knocking, a repetitive fist pounding against the door. Maybe ignoring it would do the job. Nope, it still continued,

"Can you wait?" _Is there no such thing as patience anymore? _Sitting up proved to be a more difficult challenge then making the journey to the door. She threw on her jacket, zipping it up most of the way to cover her bare chest. After slipping on something to clothe her bottom section, she limped to the door. But she stood up straight, not showing any signs of pain before the visitor, "What do you want?"

It was a man dressed up in a monkey suit, like the rest of the chairmen. His cheeks were pale but for the most part he resembled every other 50's lunatic in the Tops,

"Have a date with the floor, sweetheart? Looks like you took a nasty fall, or got into some kind of tussle." the Courier cocked an eyebrow at the man. She must had suffered from Benny's beating in a much more drastic way than she thought. She lifted her slender fingers to touch her cheek, wincing at the pain when she felt a huge welt that came to surface. It was more of a nuisance than anything, and there was no need for this greaser to point out her flaws,

"Did you come here to insult a lady, or what?"

"Hey, hey, cool it, sister. Name's Swank. I was sent here to check up on you. I thought you might be kickin' by now, but apparently not."

"By who?"

"By the boss-man who owns this suite. Must have taken a liking to you, or he wouldn't send up his right hand man to comfort his... escort."

"I'm not an escort."

"Whatever, babe. You hankering for anything? The maid? Cuisine? The finest company you'll find in this shit hole?" With a roll of the eye and a sarcastic huff, the Courier slammed the suite door in the mans face. She was in no mood to deal with any more fools with the idealistic 50s swag, let alone one who tried to pull a move on her, "Just give me a call if you need anything, doll! My soul is yours!"

Her body ached in more than one way. Not only was it hard to stand straight, but red stripes lined her arms. No doubt they were bruises from a tight grip. She couldn't quite recollect if it was his restlessness that night before or ruthlessness earlier that morning. Man, that guy was crazy in bed was all she could think. That, and she was in desperate need of a bath. She still smelled of smoke and his sweat, and musk was too much to bear when it reminded her of the snake.

In the corner of the bedroom along the same wall that led to the parlor, another door was left open. Inside, she could see a porcelain tub, likely pre-war. Anything as beautifully crafted was sure as the sky was blue made before the human race shot itself in the foot. She made her way to it, praying to any god there might be that clean water would run from it's rusted spout. Sure enough, it did, and it was clean of radioactivity too!

The wonderful heat of the water produced such a pleasant steam to caress her salty cheeks. Breathing it deeply, sure to absorb every bit of the lovely fog, it cleared her nose from the outside in. Removing her jacket and panties, she climbed into the tub that filled to the brim with the warm liquid gold. She gasped at first, for it scorched her bruised skin to a crisp, but the rarity of the situation quickly soothed her past the worry of anymore harm being brought to her corporeal form.

Her head fell back from the edge of the tub as she immersed herself deeper into the water. Eyes closed, she sighed in relief. For the first time since the messenger could remember she could enjoy a pleasant bit of silence. While her muscles ached from Benny's constant pounding, his beatings and his thrusting included. She found herself massaging the inside of her thigh from the mere remembrance,

"Hi!" She screamed at the sound of a happy man's voice. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head at the surprise. Wild and frantic, her head whipped to the entrance of the bathroom. Even more terrifying, the voice came from a body of steel, one of House's securitrons no doubt. Past the confusion of how in the hell one of his contraptions ended up there, there was a creepy smile projected onto the screen. Panting, she brought herself to reluctantly reply,

"Who, er- what are you doing here!"

"Good question! My function is to monitor Mr. House's data network and decode his encoded transmissions!" She stared blankly at the machine, wondering about the naïve nature of all securitrons. Surely they were, or this smiling buffoon would realize that she was quite indecent at the moment,

"You must be Benny's lackey."

"I'd prefer a nicer term. Maybe loyal friend." Still, a blank stare,

"Right." For an awkward moment a silence filled the room. In all honestly the woman had no idea how she was to react to the concrete smile of the robot on wheels. She tore her eyes from the sight to look straight ahead through the murky water,

"Benny had a note he wanted me to give you!" Her head popped up, her eyes creased with furrowed brows. A commanding motion of an outward stretched hand prompted the securitron to advance, placing the paper letter in her hand. She gratefully took it from the metal claw, pausing to read,

_Pussycat_

_Thanks for showing this cat the best hey-hey he's ever-ever! Talk about platinum in the sack, toots! Where'd you learn that 18 karat trick with the heels of your feet? You didn't just make my toes curl, they popped off and rolled under the bed!_

_I wish I could stay for another round, but this gent's got places to be, things to do. You showing up has forced my hand, baby! The time to act is now!_

_I won't be around for a while, but if everything works out right, you and me are a date, got it? Wouldn't miss it for all the caps in Vegas._

_Now don't get clingy and try to follow me._

_Ciao,_

_Benny_

"Try to follow you my ass, I'll _track _you to the ends of the earth. I'll- I!" She huffed, immersing the inked paper into the water. Ripping it to shreds, it dissolved within the liquid. Groaning, she rolled her head back to the securitron, "Any idea where he ran off to?"

"Sure! I think he went down his secret escape elevator out there in the hall!"

"After that?"

"No idea!" He replied with an upbeat tone, as if the news was as helpful as a detailed explanation of his routed path, "But probably to Mr. House's bunker, to upload that platinum chip of his!"

"And that is where?"

"Fortification hill! Where the Legionary retreated to after the battle of Hoover Dam!"

That slippery fraud. It would be in his reckless nature to run off to the power hungry Legionary camp despite the odds stacked against him. She barely knew him a day, and it was easy to predict. The courier groaned loudly, sliding down the back of the tub to drown herself in the water. The psychotic Caesar's abode was now her next destination.


	4. Chapter 4

No matter how many wooden crosses were erected across the Mojave, the sight of a stripped man crudely fastened to it's prongs never became less of a disturbing sight. The courier hoped that maybe the psychologically impaired slavers might have enough decency to not litter their own camp with the rotting carcasses. Wrong, they saw the dying men as a symbol of their victory. Some décor they had there.

The only thing keeping her from being immediately taken into a tent to be violated and put to work was a symbolic medal. The 'Mark of Caesar' the Legionaries called it. The way they all spoke was like a monotone incantation. Everything they said had a purpose, and a threat upon the other was a deadly reminder of their vicious ways. Even carrying that medal granting amnesty and safe passage, she was still shoved along like cattle. A few even had the nerve to make demeaning comments due to her sex. Amazing, the impact of what was between her legs, or lack of anything, made to the barbaric gladiators.

A man escorted her up the hill to the tent, both for her own safety and the ensuring that she wouldn't make a disturbance to the camp. It was silly to her, that they would think she would have the balls to take on a whole fortified camp of well trained warriors with a smuggled weapon. The tread up the steep hill, if anything, would be what she would need help with,

"_You're _the visitor Caesar wishes to speak with?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

"Watch your tongue. It is a great honor to meet with... hey!" The man yanked at her forearm at the same place Benny had placed his mark. Her apathetic roll of the eye was quickly brought to a halt as a pained expression took hold. But she didn't speak out against the guard, only spitting a harsh request for him to let go, "You're lucky we don't enslave you like the rest of your kind."

"I'm a lady." She spat, "I didn't ask to see your 'master'." The shaded man snarled at her, lifting a fist to sling at the woman. But the voice of his superior quickly ceased his slug,

"That's enough. There is business to be done, and Caesar didn't request the presence of a battered Courier."

"She's bruised enough. Whether it's a sign of insolence or clumsy idiocy is unknown." She glared at the man who spoke in riddles, continuing through the tent flap as instructed.

The inside of the general's tent was even more gruesome than the outside. It was an intimidating sight of guard dogs and well armed bodyguards at each of Caesar's sides. She flinched at each of their stares, ready to be taken away and put to work as a slave at any moment. The underdog was clearly her.

But an even more entertaining sight was what laid to her right. Out of the corner of her eye, since she refused to let him see her look, she saw the checkered man on his knees most likely in a bind. She forcefully allowed her expression to remain blank as she advanced to the bald elder man that sat in a thorned thrown. He was old, but seemed perfectly capable of holding himself up in any form of situation at first sight. This was the 'mighty' Caesar,

"You're the Courier who's caused so much trouble for both friend and foe of the Legion alike."

"I hardly think that's true, sir, I-..."

"Silence. You do know why I wanted to meet you here, right? A man nearly kills you so you track him across the breath of the Mojave. You arrive on the strip and waltz into the Lucky 38 like someone left you a key under the door mat. You visit the Tops and next thing you know the head of the Chairmen is fleeing the strip like a whimpering little pup. When you set your mind to something you get results, I like that. The question is, are you ready to get started?"

"What do I have to do?"

"Down the hill, at the west edge of camp, there's an old building. It was here when the Fort was taken in 2277. Inside the building is a hatch, and inside that hatch there are two steel doors that bear the sidle of the Lucky 38 casino. Now that same sidle is on the Platinum chip Benny was carrying when we captured him. Isn't that interesting? Even more interesting, there's a slot about the same size of the chip on the sonchule that opens the hatch. So you know what I think? I think the Platinum chip opens those doors, doors that can't be pried open, drilled open, or blasted open. Because all of that, I tried."

"And what's on the other side of those doors?"

"Benny's theory, if I understood it through all the screaming, was that Mr. House stashed some kind of ultimate weapon down there. A gigantic robot to stomp us all to death. Who cares? Whatever it is, House built it, so I want it destroyed."

"And once I'm inside?"

"I want you to destroy whatever you find in there, and then I want you to come back here and tell me about it. So go to the building and take this fucking Platinum chip with you. My legionaries will meet you there, with your weapons and equipment. Talk to Benny on your way out, he knows I'm going to let you decide how he dies. Maybe you want to remind him."

"Yes, Caesar."

Revenge never sounded so sweet, in both theory and to the ear. Now she would grant the man the attention he had been yearning since her arrival. For once the man remained silence in her presence, but most likely because he was surrounded by armed soldiers. The guard that towered over the checkered man departed, leaving the two of them alone,

"Pussycat, ain't this platinum? Had I known I would've baked a cake. The night we spent together was an 18 karat memory, baby." Her eyes peered into his from above. The nerve of this man was astounding, and she had every intention of making him suffer until his date with death, "You're looking pretty pale, sugarplum. A ghost pass through you or something." A demonic smirk found it's way upon her lips, she crouched down to his eye level to let him see what he'd done to her, "Gosh, did I give you that? It must had been half past two when you woke me up. Let's just leave it as I'm a bad morning person." She placed his chin between her index and thumb, pressing tightly to the bone,

"And I'm just in a bad mood. You don't want your fate in the hands of a highly angered woman, do you, _Benny?_"

"Now, now, wait a second. I think you're forgetting about that passion filled night of hey-hey back at my pad. Change your mind?" She pinched his chin with more force,

"How do you feel about crucifixion?"

"Yeah, seems real popular around here." He rolled his eyes, "You're not considering it, are you?" For a flashing second, a look of fear cast across the surface of Benny's eye. It was the only time she, in the short time of knowing him, has heard any voice of concern. It was for himself,

"You want to know what I'm thinking?"

"More than anything." She shoved his cheek, sending him toppling to his side. He struggled to wiggle back up onto his knees, to which she smiled with fulfillment,

"I'm going to go down into that fucking bunker, blow up whatever the shit these psychotic assholes wanted me to destroy, come back and savor every moment of your conniving ass hanging from a cross."

"You don't have the guts." The courier laughed,

"We'll see about that."

And that's what the Courier did. Within the matter of an hour the visit to the bunker was completed, setting the grounds a shaking with the roar of the underground facility. Turns out the whole vault was crawling with securitrons, most likely the 'ultimate weapon' both Caesar and Benny were referring to.

As was promised, the Courier was escorted back to Caesars tent. To say the least, the man was pleased with the news that all destructive weapons had been destroyed. Whether that news was an accurate statement, well, only the Courier knew. Arriving back to decide the fate of Benny made the risk of taking on all those robots worth every cap in Vegas,

"Hey, Benny, these brutes been treating you well?" The man gave a confused stare at her much different demeanor than before,

"Have a sudden change of heart? You're seeming especially... sunny."

"I'm just contemplating the way you're gonna go."

"Oh, so you've decided?" She smirked, pretending to stroke her chin as if an imaginary beard filled it's spot,

"I'm thinking crucifixion. It sounds especially fitting." His eyebrows turned out, eyes flowing with desperation. The C word was one not to be spoken in his presence, which made it all the more entertaining to toy with him,

"Don't do that, baby, not crucifixion. I could be up there for days with those twisted creeps laughing and pointing." For a moment, she only stared. She stood back up, looking down on the poor tortured soul,

"Pass the time thinking over your mistakes." Like the master of her own guards, she motioned towards the man for the Legionaries to take a hold of his bindings. The whole way from the ground up he struggled and yelled,

"You sick, vindictive fuck!" He kicked and squirmed from their grasp, only ceasing when brought to gunpoint. At this point, his tone dropped to a serious and infuriated tone, "I thought we had something, baby." He contained himself,

"The only thing we had was two separate agendas. Mine was just more important." If she could bottle his scowl and sell it to all the people he duped, she would. This scandal was getting all that was coming for him, she was just glad that the honor of ending him was hers.


	5. Chapter 5

She probably wasn't permitted at the camp at this hour, especially without supervision. Her task for Caesar had been completed, therefore her business there was minimal and pointless in the eyes of the Legionaries. If one were to spot her, she would be at risk of foiling her presence's purpose or even being violated to the utmost degree. Rape was not, in her mind, a just fate.

Even the hills of the Mojave were a bit chilled at night. The only sense of heat came from the long baked dirt of the mountain's surface, even then it didn't help the lack of visible light. But the Courier had sharp eyes, she could find her way up the fortress.

A guard was standing by the crosses. As far as she knew or could see through the dark atmosphere, Benny was the one among the skeletons hanging, rotting in the desert sun. The smell must be putrid, she assumed. Soon the guard would leave, for it was getting late. He did. Not long after she arrived sings of his strength weakened and he departed from the area. She popped out from behind an empty tent, approaching the crosses. Her head whipped from side to side. No Legionaries, or anyone for that matter.

Sure enough the checkered man was the one non-decomposed body dangling from the wooden construction. His eyes were closed, and she wasn't quite sure if he had given up the fight so soon. Sleeping had to be a difficult task from that position. Although he was a lying and deceptive con man, sympathy still weaseled its way into the pit of her heart. That was the whole reason she was here in the first place. Regret.

Certainly she wasn't able to reach the length of the cross from her position on the ground. At the height of his wrists she would have to grow five feet to be able to reach him. Luckily a crate or two was stacked next to the nearest tent. Luck wasn't exactly the way she wished to describe the situation. Lugging the half filled crates to the area next to the cross proves to be more difficult than she thought, but eventually it was done. She placed the top one slightly off base to provide a stepping place on top of the first crate.

Benny's awakening was inevitable given the vigorous shaking he received from the Courier's sawing. Had he jerked his body any harder than he did his hand might have served as the sole casualty that day, given he didn't reveal the two of them with constant screams of agony. Still, he shook, unable to turn his head to see what was going on,

"Hey- what are you-?"

"Shut up, wouldya?"

"Is that you pussycat?" He forced a mocking laugh. It was obvious that breathing had become a difficult task. He sounded so... weak. The confidence in his voice faltered through groggy tones, "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

"You're gonna wake up the whole fort." On the last word she sawed through the last strand of rope holding his right hand. She grunted, shoving her blade into his pale, blood deprived palm, "Cut your hand free." She commanded.

The Courier hit the ground with a thud as she dropped from the two crate high stack. She brushed off the dust on her knees, then proceeded to re-stack the boxes under his feet. Within the minute the two had finished sawing him off the wooden cross. He, too, found himself stumbling to the ground,

"Now that we're at eye level," He coughed into his hand, wiping his mouth on his checkered sleeve, "What the hell are you doing here, toots? Why are you saving me?" It was an impulse to stretch his aching chest muscles, which proved to be more painful than the position he had grown accustomed to, "No, how'd you get past those skirt wearing brutes?" The messenger took the knife from the ground, shoving it back into it's holster on her hip with an angry haste,

"Can't you just take help when it's handed to you?"

"Some help." He scoffed, "You helped me to a one way ticket to vigorous torture. I'm talking lashings with salt in the wounds, doll. Any idea how I'm supposed to escape alive?"

"Maybe torture's the fun part?" She smirked evilly down at the man, now doubled over panting in pain. He lifted his chin to glare at the woman,

"You just can't let me die, can you? I ain't a true cat, sister, I'm only built to die once."

From her satchel she pulled out a rather large mechanical contraption. It was about the size of a regular man's forearm, with a hole that was made to fit one. A universal size that bonded to the user. On one end there was a well scratched screen with multiple colored buttons. One particularly stood out, a clear one labeled "one use". She tossed it to the man,

"Think fast." Clumsily, he caught it. It only took a moment for Benny to identify the accessory,

"A stealth-boy?" The deliverer slipped one onto herself, holding her left index finger to the button, ready to press, "You've got every pin and needle on lock, don't you?"

"Quiet." She commanded with no sense of relent, "It'll be difficult as hell to see, but try to keep up."

* * *

><p>It took a lot of running, more sprinting than either of the two had done in a lifetime nearly. Of course the Courier was more conditioned for lost distance running, and she was not tied to a cross for two days. Benny had grown faint. Deprived of water, food, and having had a surplus of exhaustion, upon exiting the camp he collapsed into the river they used to make their escape. He was near drowning, too, until the Courier skidding down the red rock cliff to his rescue. Again.<p>

She yanked the con-man up from his collar, slapping him into consciencnous. He blinked his way back to reality, but she still took the chance at hitting him around some more. As if he had been revived with full strength, he grabbed her by the wrist the way he had done nights before. At the memory, she relented, letting the coughing man fall back into the shallow stream.

He seemed so pathetic now. Gasping for breath as if it were going out of style. But it was not in her nature to be so belligerent. It was not in her morals to be so heartless,

"You're one hell of a fool." She scoffed, wiping the sweat from her brow with the soiled sleeve of her jacket. As difficult as it was to admit, the pleasure of seeing him grab at his aching chest was satisfying. He tried to speak, but could only mutter an inaudible string of curses before coughing in pain.

She debated whether she should help the dying man any further, or leave him to fend for himself. It was a given that she had far surpassed any payment she owed the man, if any, for putting him up on the cross. The result of his actions came to be crucifixion, but she quickly put him in her debt. But that was not what she wanted. Revenge was not a goal of the Courier anymore.

The decision was made to leave the dying man in the river, and she regrettably ambled on in the direction out of the canyon. It was only then that Benny mustered up the strength to speak,

"Where are you off to?" His soaked coat hung limp from his hunched back, dripping back into the river that surrounded his feet. With weak and sleepy eyes, he stared up at the Courier. Dark, wet locks of his thick hair matted down to cover his eyes. The woman stood tall against the wind, staring down at the pathetic being,

"Away. I've paid my debts." She could see his scowl from under his hair,

"How am I supposed to get back to New Vegas?" As if to mock the man, she smirked devilishly before turning away from him,

"You used to be a Nomad, didn't you?" Putting one foot in front of the other, she sloshed through the resisting waters, "Figure it out."


End file.
